I always dream of a glamorous city,
where the lights glitter brighter
than the silver on my ears,
where beauty is a song on every tongue
and silence lingers like air.

For now, I chase my goals,
like a bird darting after a worm—
restless, ambitious, unafraid.
Because that city waits for me,
the place I will one day call home.

If I could move past the point of *******— my bull horns
are beaten down by life’s whip. Feeling ready to blow
my brain, an itchy finger on the trigger, searching for
life's plus centre: a positive man stuck in the middle; senses
sharp, but it sounds insensitive to an eager mind; all
of our dreams have been suffocated by the placenta.

I think I can be honest about the work of others, but
speaking that truth loudly — for some— sounds like
we don’t really love each other. Chained only by deeper
ambition; passion weighs heavy when it isn’t complete.
Here’s a writer’s petition: loving poetry— an appeal to
careless ambitions over being Christian.

Pride mirrors itself— words reflecting the world’s
weakness, ugly earnestness to be outstanding; going
out to make something of yourself as an artist surely
disappoints a family. Gain success through your own
struggle, heavy prayers; "I guess we’ll all be wealthy."

It all depends upon: the task of multitasking most
of your dreams— to exactitude; the power of words,
poetic charge, poetic energy. But know this—the
lightbulb to your dreams is what will turn them on.

All those wanting pieces of your spark—
you’ll lose track of where they all came from.

Which is worse ,
To live as a monster,  
Or die a good man?  

Everyone climbs the ladder;  
At the top,  
“Bottom” is not in their vocabulary.  

No service comes without coin,  
No good deed without exchange.  
Like an overcrowded boat,  
Only the strong survive,  
And ruthless measures pave the way.  

Yet in a system where goodness  
Doesn’t guarantee the top,  
To remain just and true,  
We serve humanity,  
Though we don’t reach the heights.  

Monsters envy the harmony of having enough,  
Their lives shiny, yet haunted by guilt and shame.  
The good resent their lack of ascent,  
Feeling not enough to claim the throne.  

To be honest, I don’t know
Should we climb the ladder,  
Or take it away?

आयुष्याच्या प्रत्येक टप्प्यावर
चढण्याची केली घाई,
कुठे हरवला आनंद माझा
मलाच कळालं नाही.

स्वप्नं मोठी, इच्छा जास्त –
पण मेहनत केली नाही,
कुठे हरवला आनंद माझा
मलाच कळालं नाही.

सर्वांनी मला सावध केलेले,
पण मी लक्ष दिलं नाही,
कुठे हरवला आनंद माझा
मलाच कळालं नाही.

मेहनतीशिवाय मार्ग मला
कोणताच दिसत नाही,
हरवलेला आनंद माझा
मी पुन्हा शोधत राही.

Highways go on forever
intertwining suburban homes;
where boys are loved into men;
then drive away

What have I done?
On my quest to gain power,
I killed someone,
Someone dear to me,
And not just one,
But multiple people that existed only in me
Died with my act,
An unforgivable one.
The setting sun
Unleashes it's red glow
Further highlighting the blood on my hands
The wind howls, mourning;
A trait I have forever lost

I look back back to my villa
An haven big enough to feed the world
To fulfil every and all desire and needs
Forever keeping them happy
But to me, it's a monument to what I did
It will never fulfil my one desire.

I wish mother was here
I still remember the last time I saw her
She was smiling, that genuine smile I've always loved
Even as her body deteriorate
I worked so hard to save her
But I failed.
Now, this is the only memory of her that's left,
The rest died with him,
That happy child,
So full of wonder, curiosity,
Knew what it meant to live in the moment
To be genuinely happy,
To genuinely love and care for others without thinking of ulterior motives
To.....to......to just....be
But I will never feel that again

On my quest to be independent
To grow up
To be for me and me alone
What was nurtured in me for years
All the memories and emotions engraved within them
Gone, in the blink of an eye

A stand here amidst the haven I built to be my happiness
But all it does is remind me of my state
Dead, cold, and unfeeling
Forever cursed to be soulless
A cold unfeeling monster

I came from silence, storms inside,
Where shadows spoke and tears would hide.
A boy made iron, flame, and thread,
I stitched my soul where others bled.

I asked the void, “Who am I now?”
No echo came—I made the vow:
To shape my mind, to sharpen steel,
To climb with scars and learn to feel.

I do not beg the stars to shine,
I build my path. The light is mine.
With every fall, I stand and grin—
Each bruise, a door I kick within.

They said, “You’re too much fire, too loud.”
But gold is never meant for crowds.
I chose the pain, the edge, the weight—
For that is where I forge my fate.

I am the man who breaks the wall,
Who walks through loss and loves the fall.
Let life strike hard—I strike it back
With vision fierce and heart intact.

I want the things they say can’t be—
The dreams too vast for eyes to see.
Not just for me, but those I love,
To lift them high, to rise above.

But I will rest, and breathe, and laugh,
And dance on broken aftermath.
For peace is part of power’s flame,
And joy is not a softer game.

I need no crown to know I won—
For I am whole when day is done.
The mirror holds my only prize:
A soul of gold, with fire in eyes.

And when I lose, I lose like kings—
Preparing for far greater things.
My failure’s just my victory’s lap,
A thunderclap before the snap.

And when I win, I build anew,
For others’ hands to climb it too.
Not envy, not control, nor pride—
But love, the storm I hold inside.

So mark these words and hold them tight:
I live for truth, I burn for light.
My name won’t fade, it multiplies—
For I am gold.

Golden, I rise.